Reyston! R'yst! We love you, and that's not just a shifty bribe to get you to draw pretty pictures for us, REALLY. Here is your Ligryth: we hope you love her as much as we do! (Seriously, if you’re looking for a PD…) As always, this inspiration was made for you, but you need not play anything that you don't feel fits with your vision of your dragon; above all, we want you to have fun!

The Black Death Egg

This egg looks as if it's been torched by a dozen dragons; it's black, save for a pink or red fleshy looking spot here and there, and its texture is seemingly deceiving to the eye. It may look crusty with raised welts all over, but it's surface is as smooth as a baby's bottom. Doesn't it just make you want to touch it?

The plague damned well better be obsolete.

The Black Death Egg spins ring-around-the-roses in place, humming with the gentle vibration of its occupant. The fleshy looking spots, like pockets full of posies, begin to bloom sickly petals as pieces of the dark shell peel away. More cracks mottle the surface, more ashes to ashes flecks fall down upon the sands until the stresses become too great and the egg explodes. The nymphish creature left behind stretches the glory of her wings, head raised to croon an alluring song to the skies above.

Steller's Mistress of the Sea Green Dragonet

The shimmer of sun-struck waves casts a lustrous glamour over this large, yet limber green; beneath the shift of olive and pine, the Siren's call of pyrite pans the length of her high-arched back, from dainty headknobs, to the tip of her long, sinuous tail. Deep and deeper, the seductive allure of her glowing gaze draws the unwary. Deep and deeper, the murky silt-stirred features: her short, small snout and fully rounded cheeks; her long, slender neck. Shadows of the briny deep rise up along her haunches to drown her narrow underbelly and chest in forgotten jade and sinister cobalt, fingers of kelp tangling lissome limbs in living chains. No mere mortal flora could aspire to chain the glory of her wings, however; though shadows caress the span of her sails, dagger-sharp spars are sun-kissed brilliance, striking against the dark.

Public Impression Pose

Steller's Mistress of the Sea Green Hatchling strolls down the length of the candidate line, but it's clear that her attention is locked. Beholden is good. She comes to a halt in front of one seacraft candidate with a wild cowlick in his thick, black hair and emits a satisfied rumble. As she steps forth to catch his eye with her own, she croons again, a chill-inducing song of twisted love.

Private Impression Message

Plunged into darkness, you are swallowed whole by the watery embrace of a manipulative mind. You can sense her satisfaction as the breath is gently squeezed from your body. « Reeeeeyssssstooooooonnnn… » she whispers, her voice resonating pleasurably to the very depths of your core. « You're miiiine. » Following this almost malicious statement, the light and airy laugh of a Venus in furs. You can see her, then, as you are allowed breath, the ethereal light of her presence cold and calculating as you are forced to dance attendance on her whimsy. Another laugh. « I am Ligryth. Love me. »

Dragon Theme

The Sirens of Greek mythology were seductively beautiful women, with voices to match. They sang to passing sailors, luring them to their island where they were then consumed. It is said that the flower-filled meadow in which they dwelt was strewn with the bones of their repast. In later folklore, they were often portrayed as fully aquatic and mermaid-like. As a matter of fact, the word for "mermaid," in many languages, is based on the Greek word for "siren," and an entire order of fully aquatic, herbivorous mammals, the order sirenia, was named after the Greek myth. Sirens were not, however, sea-maidens.

Mermaids were aquatic creatures, half fish, half woman, who were known-with beautiful faces, and beautiful voices-to lure sailors to a watery grave. Even mermaids friendly towards human men were believed to squeeze the breath of those they tried to save, or drown them by trying to bring them home, being unaware that humans cannot breathe underwater.

From the order sirenia, sea cows have often been mistaken for mermaids. Prized for their fat, which burned cleanly, without scent, and their pelts, Steller's sea cow was hunted into extinction, shortly after discovery.

Steller's Sea Cow:'s_Sea_Cow

Name Inspiration

Wow. I mean, can we just say WOW. Coming up with your dragon's name took more time, researching, brain storming, and bickering than we'd care to admit to. You did give us a lot of requirements to fill, and though we didn't necessarily fill ALL of them, we're pretty damn happy with the name we came up with.

After consulting the all mighty Ji'n, who's a Classicist, he told us about the 'liguren aoides', the song that that the sirens used to call men to them. Translated, it means "clear-sounding song", and considering that your dragon is based off of a siren, we figured it was a great way to tie everything together. We won't even LIST here some of the names we went through, but after messing around with the name Gryth, we added the 'li' onto it to flesh it out a little more and got Ligryth. We hope you enjoy it, because hot damn, we spent enough time coming up with it.


"No siren did ever so charm the ear of the listener as the listening ear has charmed the soul of the siren."
- Henry Taylor

Have you ever had that feeling as if all the air has been sucked out of the room? A sensation of pressure in the absolute silence, as you descend into the depths of any body of water. Yet, all you can see in all that darkness is a light, which brightly illuminates one ethereal form, while blocking out everything else. Well, this is the feeling you have when your lifemate decides to snare you into a conversation, or a favor. « R'yst, ohh R'yst.. » you will hear as the clouds of mist swirl around your consciousness. « Your time is spent with /me/ now. I don't care that you are eating, I am the one who sustains you. Come. Here. » And of course once you indulge her, does she let you surface for small gasps of air. But she's still the only one you can see, as if you had tunnel vision.

"The Siren waits thee, singing song for song."
- Andrew Ladd

At times, her voice will sound like echoes and singing, almost with a musical lilt of bells or a harp. But if you anger her, her tone will quickly change to the roar of a whirlpool, devouring your soul, or the ocean spray battering a cliff-face during a storm, even a ear-piercing shriek that is so powerful, that you are paralyzed in agony just to listen to even one syllable of it. As she speaks, you can feel the salt spray as it ricochets off the barnacles along a rocky coastline, and the briny smell of the ocean will tickle your nose, reminding you of home. However, if she so chooses, the smell of rotting, dead fish will be quite strong. Sirens mean business, and can manipulate your senses any way they feel like at the time.


She is one looker, your dragon; long and lean, with long, sinuous limbs and an almost sweet face, she moves with a predatory grace, seduction in every move, every smoldering glance. Next to some of her Pass-born sisters, she may not appear so, but Ligryth is large for an Interval green—all the better to prolong the exertions of her suitors in flight. Older riders might remark on it; an omen, they'll say, looking to the skies and wondering if the meteor-wrought Threadfall might return.

In coloring, she is as mercurial as the ocean from which her palette was taken and, like the ocean, she begins with a light-touched surface—not quite cheery or vibrant, but enough light to lull the unwary into believing her safe. As you sink "deeper," or drop beneath the canopy of her sails, as it were, you find that she becomes darker, more visibly sinister; you discover that those living chains about her limbs are not for her, but for you. And, once you look beyond that sweet face, to the fire of her gaze, you realize that you're in trouble, son.

Ligryth will not grow with jumps and spurts, she will never be uneven; she will always be able to carry herself with grace and poise, from the moment she first hatches shell. It comes as naturally to her as her cruelty towards you. Such beauty never comes without a price, however. She doesn't have itchy spots, and she will declare this with arrogant pride. Perfection, or her desire to torment you as often as she may, requires their lack. And you WILL oil her as often as it takes to circumvent the appearance of dry patches. If you must oil her hourly, as her growing figure dictates, then you will oil her hourly. « You are MY rider. What else of import have you to do? » As she gets older, and grows tired of this particular game, you may be able to shuffle off such chores upon the ever-willing youngsters that swarm the beach for the opportunity, but, as she is growing, it is your chore, and you'd better get used to it.

For all that she is a beast of the ocean, Ligryth likes water, but she does not love it. It is good for bathing, and cooling off in the heat of a summer afternoon, but she finds little joy in swimming. Despite being a green, with a green's speed and prowess in the air, she is slow in the water, which the predator in her finds distasteful. She would much rather spend her afternoon sunning on a large rock from which she can watch everyone else play.


Ligryth is like the rain. It's a neccessary evil. It can be cold, brutal, harsh, and demanding. And after the rain doesn't always come the sun. This is your green.

When she wants something, she will worm her way into the back of your mind, pulling, teasing and drawing your focus away from any and everything else, because what else could be more important than her desires? Tendrils of seaweed may sometimes take hold and grow, twisting their thalli around and about every part of your consciousness until you can comprehend little else. Unless she decides to let you finish your thought, finish your meal, finish buckling your pants, or whatever you happen to be doing, you will be shuffling away with your pants around your ankles, your conversations in limbo and your food cooling where it lay. You're here to serve her, and there will be consequences, if you do not comply. And it won't be something as whimsical as a bloodied woolly carcass left on your ledge.


When she wants you, however, she will merely be an insistent tug at the back of your mind, the headache that won't go away, or the niggling thought that you've forgotten something important, but can't remember what it is. Your relationship is very much one of push and pull. The harder you push her away, the harder she will pull; though perhaps a matter of the inexorable force versus the immovable object, it will be you who will eventually have to give in, her patience far stronger than your will. One you do give in, she will give you your caresses, whisper her "sweet nothings," and then release you. It is always about the game and the hunt. She will forever be testing your boundaries: needling you, teasing you, pushing your buttons, until you are ready to explode. You scream ENOUGH and, laughing, she will withdraw to return to her pedestal, aloof and untouchable as ever, only to start it all over again, the next day, the next week, the next time it pleases her mood.

"It is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts… For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to…"
- Patrick Henry

Despite her cruelty, the games, and the maneuvering, she is ever indulgent of your own desires, and she would have the world spoil you. You deserve that beautiful someone, those skins of wine, that position on the Games committee. A Siren's greatest strength is manipulation, and she would consider it a pleasure to assist you, especially if she can use the assistance against you: a word here, a hint dropped there, a little seduction, maybe even bribery or extortion, if you want it badly enough and nothing else in her repertoire works. All for you, and all because you are hers.

With others, she is not so aloof, nor so cruel, though she continues to maintain the image of the untouchable maiden atop her stony pedestal. She has a lesser hold on other dragons, who will either find her mesmerizing, or see through the illusion, entirely, and therefore, she tends to remain distant when interacting with her own kind. She allows herself to be seen in the right circles, plays the right games, says the right things, even allows herself to be seen curling tails with this or that male, but those who try to reach out to her emotionally, will reach in vain, for though she loves the hopeless struggle, she reserves such games for you. Flirtatious and perhaps even friendly one minute, and reservedly polite the next, she is ever the maiden of the sea.

Ligryth is very appreciative of the strengths in others, be it physical accomplishment, or strength of will; she is generous when she feels praise is due. You may be surprised to find that she admires your own strength of character, though she will tell you often of her admiration: « Your strength of will is commendable, my dear, but really, you won't win this one. » …if always with that caveat. She has a soldier's appreciation of anyone who hunts, the physical prowess required considered worthy of great praise indeed, and the capacity to hunt well could easily influence her choice of suitors, whether said hunter be the dragon or the rider.


Although she may be barren, flights are a serious business to Lygryth. It's not just another easy stroll around the block. As a matter of fact, they are the exact opposite of that. Those who enter into flights with her must have the strength and stamina necessary in order to simply keep up with her. Be warned— she will put them through their paces and you as well.

It'll start when she first shows signs of being proddy. It won't so much be that she demands attention from the males, but that they are just naturally drawn to her. And, of course, she'll soak up any and all attention she gets, which then seems to make her even more shiny, and…it's a vicious cycle. Unlike other dragons, she won't so much insist that you oil her incessantly while she's proddy or paint her talons or scratch her butt, but she'll want you to take her flying. Whether it's simply to the Hold or all the way to Ista Weyr, Ligryth will want to be in tip-top physical form. And it's not at all because of the beauty aspect of it. She just wants to be on top of her game when it comes time to fly.

"That destructive siren, sloth, is ever to be avoided."
- Horace

And fly she will. Ligryth won't necessarily have a preference for dragons of a particular color, nor will she have a specific dragon that she favors in every flight. Her philosphy is simple: She wants the best, and she will make sure that she has The Best. To accomplish this, she will fly long and hard, letting those whimpier, far more inferior dragons fall off in the process so that in the end, she's left with The Best. The Best will vary flight to flight, and someone who was The Best in one flight might not be The Best the next time. But that's all part of the fun, right? Unfortunately for you, R'yst, Ligryth might not take any preference of yours into consideration as far as who you think may be The Best. At times, you two might be in perfect unision in your thinking, but there will always be those times when you have to give into her and her wants. It's something all men have to do, and just because she's a dragon, she's no different than any other woman. But she loves you. And since she's part of you and you're part of her, what's best for her is also best for you. You'll learn to love it. …Hopefully. Because it's not going to change.

Just like when she's proddy, the males will be drawn to her by some unnatural pull, like gravity. Of course, the flattering words sent to the males will certainly help keep their interest, which is good considering that once Ligryth is in the air, they are in it for the long haul. Or until they give up. Whichever comes first. Once they are in the air, however, her words turn into those of a different kind. While they are flattering, it's true, they're used to egg the males into showing off their skillz. It's all part of finding out who is The Best. If a brown can do a barrel roll and still keep up with her, he's in a much better standing than the the bronze who has the speed, but not the moves. Her flights will take double the time, double the effort, but to her, it's totally worth it.

All good things must come to an end, and so is the case with her flights. Whoever the lucky man is, Ligryth will make sure that you and everyone else knows that he is The Best. Submersed in approval and sheer victory, her hide will glow for days, smug with both her performance and whoever caught her. However, that satisfaction with him will wear off once she's proddy again, and the search for The Best will start all over again.


Name: Linny, Shazi, Tilla
Egg Desc: S'lo
Dragonet Desc: Shazi, Xilaros
Messages: Shazi
Puppeteer: Shazi
Inspiration: Linny, Shazi, Tilla

Eth'n and bronze Ysvarth
Erei and green Khetanaxeroth
Sutri and blue Eovisoth

Harper Tale's 56th Hatching
High Reaches Weyr's 20th PC Clutch
Lendai's gold Talicanitath x Y'an's Bronze Aojadinth
Sunday, March 21st, 2010

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